


Alternate Universe

by accioval



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioval/pseuds/accioval





	Alternate Universe

**_Chapter One: The Girl Named Love and The Boy Without Purpose_ **

_2006_

_Andrew_

Andrew Lincoln sighed, sitting on the couch of his mother's place in Bath, England. A girl that he'd spent nearly a year chasing after had broken up with him, and he had tried desperately to salvage things, but she wanted to travel and he wanted to focus on his budding career. And his career wasn't much better, as he'd finally found international success in a film, but the director had cut his part and made him out to be some sort of sick stalker type. When he'd read the script, he was introduced to a young man who was tormented by love, but ultimately backed off. Now, he was some weirdo who kept going after someone's wife -- his best friend's wife at that. 

Plus, he was absolutely tired of people coming up to him and asking him to pose with cue cards. Honestly, at thirty three years old, he was tired of going from role to role, show to show. He wasn't content with the film world in England, where he'd either play a sex fiend, a man who can't grow up, or a detached processor in need of love. He wanted to be successful in America, but it was incredibly competitive over there with the slew of English actors, much like himself, seeking some sort of refuge.

He contemplated this while sitting on his mother's couch, where he had been staying ever since the break up several months ago. He hated imposing on her, but he was a mama’s boy to his core and appreciated her love and ability to take care of him. 

His mother Laura walked into the room, unbeknownst to him, and sighed to herself. She stared at her youngest son, who was always the rebellious one. He was always a little too wild, and slightly crazy, but a sweet child. His good looks earned him the unwanted attention of many girls, and lately the revolving door of them left her unsettled. 

“Andrew, I'm concerned about you, dear,” his mother began, moving to sit next to him on the small leather couch. “You've been off since that girl -- Gloria --”

“-- Gael, mum. Her name is Gael,” he told her. 

“Oh, I must've forgotten,” She laughed. “Anyways, you've been in such a rut since _Gael_ broke your heart, and I'm concerned about you. You've brought at least five girls over to the house and Nigel is about to have a fit.”

“I just need some company, I guess. I thought that we were going to get married, have kids,” Andrew admitted. “I could see us having a life together like you and Dad…”

Andrew’s mother smiled sadly at her son, his light blue eyes always became nearly translucent when he was overcome with sadness. He ran a hand through his growing locks of curly hair, fresh stubble dotting his usually clean shaven cheeks; he'd lost nearly a stone, which made him look even more intense than usual. 

“Did you want a life with her, or did you want to impress us?” his mother asked him shrewdly.

Andrew didn't have an answer for that. He'd met Gael nearly two years ago, and he couldn't quite recall anything that he'd noticed about her physicality, except that she had large spiky hair like Sonic the Hedgehog and beautiful green eyes. He remembered that she didn't like to serve him coffee when she was supposed to, and he would have to track her down, and find her doing accounting or shuffling around cast members instead of her assigned duties. They'd become friends and eventually more, and he liked her enough.

He felt like that's what he was supposed to do at this point in his life. He was tired of fucking random girls and passing out drunk somewhere. He knew that he needed to stabilize his wild mind, which always ran rampant with thoughts that he could barely contain. 

“I just figured that it was time. My brother got married at twenty-five, he has a stable job, and I'm just out of sorts, mum,” Andrew admitted. “Gael wasn't the one, I knew it, but I forced it because...because it felt _good_ enough. I'm tired of not having my shit together.”

Andrew's mother contemplated his words. She knew that her son was right; he was thirty years old, making tiny checks in the constant stream of shows that he starred in, and he was wild. He'd never gotten a true break from acting after finishing his three year course at RADA, and she knew what she had to do.

“You know Rachel, my friend?” Andrew’s mother questioned her son.

He nodded quizzically. “Yes.”

“Well, she was unable to go on her annual volunteer trip to West Africa, we usually go together, but Nigel has been in poor health,” She explained, watching the subtle shift from curious to interested in her son's eyes. “I thought maybe you could go instead?”

“For how long?”

“About 6 months, dear. They really need people…”

Andrew contemplated her words, he really did need some time away from the world and knew that a trip to Africa was exactly what he needed right now. He and his mother had been to several trips to South Africa and Zimbabwe, and she'd tell him how much she loved it. She'd tell him about how the sun was an immortal goddess, and when he was in Africa, looking at it, he'd never be afraid. 

He believed her, and so his love for Africa formed. 

“I'll go,” he told her. 

“Alright, but you're going to need some shots, son!” She smiled enthusiastically, grabbing him and heading towards the doctor's office. 

_2006_

_Danai_

Danai arrived in Monrovia, Liberia at approximately six o’clock at night; she knew this because she was almost OCD when it came to travel arrangements and she also refused to rebook to get there any earlier. After her final year at Tisch, she'd gotten an idea for a play that she hoped would change her life, but she was broke and depending on several friends to pay her bills and her rent. Obviously, she wanted to reach out to her mother and father for the money to buy her ticket back to Africa, but her pride made her weak and a little afraid. 

Also, the subject matter for the play wasn't exactly light either. She was going to stay at Ms. Llema’s house just outside of the city, and to say that she was honored was an understatement. Ms. Llema had played a huge role in ending the Liberian Civil War through sit ins and protests that forced women to stand and fight; seeing pictures of young women with tight tube tops, jeans, and machine guns inspired her to break up with her supportive boyfriend and take off straight away for Africa. 

Ms. Llema had started a small refugee camp just outside the city, filled with women from West Point. West Point was where most young women and their mothers went after the war was over; most of them were child soldiers or left behind by their families. Most ran small shacks and lived on garbage until Ms. Llema swooped in and took them somewhere better, and Danai knew that this was the perfect place to go to get to the bottom of it. Afterwards, she did plan to go directly to West Point, but she didn't want to scare them, or treat them like animals. She knew that these girls trusted Ms. Llema, and if she gained her trust, then she'd gain there's. 

After awhile of waiting, she found herself hailing a small shuttle, ran by a local man with dark skin, a lovely smile, and greying hair. “Where are you going, young lady?” he asked in a deep, yet smooth accent.

“Can you take me to Ms. Llema’s camp?” She asked him, handing him a slip with the directions. 

“Sure,” he told her, and they were off.

The small shuttle, comprised of a cab pulled by horses bumped and prodded over the city streets, newly built after the country had finally found solace after such a dark time in its history. Danai found herself looking out into the darkening sky of the Liberian countryside; it was beautiful and nearly majestic, the vibrant verella hues fading into ember reds and indigos as the sun faded beyond the horizon. In all of her time in America, she'd forgotten what it was like to be back in her home continent, helping tell the stories of girls in need. 

“You must be from America,” the man finally spoke again. “Miss. Llema gets a lot of people around here asking about all that she has achieved for our people, our women,” the man spoke with reverence. “So, what do you want?”

“I just want to tell her story and the story of all of these girls,” She admitted. “I'm from the South -- Zimbabwe.”

“You look American,” he chuckled. “My apologies.”

“You're only halfway wrong, I went to college in America,” She told the old man with kind eyes. “But coming here has been the most free that I've been in quite some time, Mister.” 

The man simply hums quietly to himself, pulling the small shuttle to a stop in front of a house in the middle of the countryside. The house is surrounded by other tiny houses, each allotted with clothes on clothes lines, and an abundance of things; shoes, chairs, and beautiful glass designs. Danai marvels at the custom vases, which seemed handmade. 

“There's going to be volunteers from England coming in tomorrow to help Ms Llema settle the girls in, but you're free to stay here for however long you need,” the old man told her.

Danai gathered her luggage, and pulled it to the door, nervous about what was going to happen next.

_Andrew_

“Do you have your cell phone that I bought you to contact me?” Andrew's mother questioned him, righting his errant curls with her fingers as if he were just five again. 

“Yes, mum,” he answered for the thousandth time. “I have my phone, radio, and all of my shots and I know to go straight to Ms. Llema’s house first thing in the morning.”

Andrew's mother accepted his reply. He was still her baby that she had to let go of, even though she scarcely wanted to. An airport official came over, informing Andrew that it was time to go, and so his mother wrapped her tiny body around his and hugged the life out of him, making sure that she knew exactly how much she'd miss him, even though she suspected that this trip would change his young life.

She pulled away, and whispered in his ear. “Find yourself a nice African girl.”

Andrew blushed bright pink, and simply nodded and then took off before his mother could say anything else. 

_Danai_

Danai had spent all morning at Ms. Llema’s side, and since she was a secretive woman, Danai knew that she'd have to stay here for quite some time to gain her trust. She'd shadowed her all morning, and even got some beautiful golden gowns to wear, which covered her cropped hair, as she'd shaved it off for a play in school and decided that the look suited her. It gave her the confidence she desperately craved.

The gowns somehow made her feel more African than she had in such a long time, the beautiful golden lines on the orange fabric nearly made her ethereal. 

After a second of making her daily rounds to each house, and each girl, Ms. Llema finally turned to Danai with an uncharacteristic smile on her usually stoic face. “Danai,” She addressed her finally. “I'm going to put you with one of the English volunteers for now. I do not trust my girls with foreign white men, but I trust you enough.”

“You trust me enough?” Danai asked with a teasing laugh.

Ms. Llema smiled slightly, charmed by the young woman who regarded her women with kindness and consideration. She knew that she'd come here to write about the plights of her nation, but she also knew that she was an outsider too, someone who'd come here with the sole purpose of shining light on their darkened world. 

“Yes, _enough_. Now come, these white men are usually early,” She said, pulling her along. 

Danai found herself chuckling at the older woman's candor, but admiring it all the same.

_Andrew_

When Andrew pulled up to the small array of houses with a few other English volunteers, he hadn't expected what he saw, which was small, but beautiful houses. He marvelled at the sights of several African women carrying buckets of laundry outside towards the well, while others laughed and danced around freely. But, his eyes were stuck on the beautiful girl in the golden gown who walked straight towards him.

He'd never seen a woman so beautiful as she was; her onyx skin nearly shimmered in the sun, her almond eyes were brown and intoxicating, her full lips soft. He drug his eyes down her petite, yet curvy form, barely hidden in the robes that fit her like a second skin. 

_Who was this Goddess?_ He thought to himself, taking instinctual steps towards her until he walked straight into her, knocking them both to the ground. 

“I'm so sorry!” he apologized to her, blushing profusely as she frowned up at him.

They were now in such close proximity, that their bodies touched, his arms had immediately hit the ground around her head to brace himself, so the two strangers were nearly lip to lip two seconds within meeting each other. In close proximity to her, he was even more enchanted; she smelled like the sweetest coconuts, and something else, something earthy. He wanted to sniff her all day and ---

“-- Excuse me, I've sort of got to get up now,” the strange, beautiful girl informed him. 

Embarrassed, and slightly aroused, he immediately got up and then offered his hand to her. She placed her small hand in his own, and he swore that he felt electricity shoot up and down his arms until the moment she let go. When she did let go, the feeling lingered in his hands, a warmth spreading through him. 

“I'm very sorry, again,” he found himself apologizing once more. “I was...distracted by the beautiful architecture here.”

“It's fine, just don't do that again,” She told him, her voice warning, but light at the same time.

“I don't intend to, unless you distract me again,” he said, and then shook his head himself. 

“I can't guarantee that I won't,” She winked, and then grinned at him. 

And for the first time in his adult life, he felt his heart flutter, _flutter_ at the way a woman looked at him. He was already enraptured by her and they'd barely exchanged ten words with each other. He wanted to know where she came from, what she did, how she liked it here, and if she'd possibly be okay with coming home with him.

_You're way ahead of yourself_ , he thought to himself but he couldn't help it. 

At that moment, Ms. Llema coughed and made her presence known to the two youngins. “I see you've met the white man that you'll be shadowing while he completes his service here, Danai.”

“ _Him_?” She questioned, turning around and arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Ms Llema.

_Danai_

Ms. Llema placed a hand on her hip, and shook her head. Danai was a woman who spoke her mind, much like herself, but she also knew that she needed this from the young woman, so she softened her stance. “Andrew is an actor, like yourself. He's from England, and his mother is a friend of mine. She has volunteered here, or had her friends volunteer here with the women. She's South African, born into apartheid. I think you'll find him to be a fine match.”

And just like that, Danai's large brown eyes softened as she took another look at the man. His South African and British ancestry and looks reminded her of the first time she'd stood on the stage at her school in Zimbabwe; she was suddenly transported back to that first, exhilarating feeling of performing her art form. It was as if she was there now, but as quickly as she went there, she shook her head and snapped back to the present.

Her eyes followed his form, from his longish messy curls, that were tucked behind his ears and face; his strong shoulders and torso, which seemed slightly underweight, to his bow legs. 

He was definitely _pretty_ , she thought.

“Anyways, I've got to attend to some pressing matters over at Oneka’s house,” Ms. Llema explained. “She's about to have her baby, and the woman can barely move. She's built like a house now.”

Ms. Llema chuckled, her usually strong features grew soft. She was a small woman, who wore her extra pounds like a symbol of honor. Her gowns were light brown, flowers drawn up and down; her eyes were nearly black, but shone with pride at all times. She walked off swiftly, and left the two strangers together for the first time. 

“So, you're my guide?” Andrew smirked. “I'm sure I'll enjoy that.”

“Don't enjoy it too much, pretty boy. Whatever flirty...you know, flirty mojo you have going on won't work on me,” She told him, with a nervous smile of her own, finally meeting his eyes, which were beautiful. 

“I'm not doing anything at all,” he lifted his hands up innocently.

She didn't buy it, and once again gave him a disbelieving look.

“I don't believe you,” She shook her head at him. “I know guys like you.”

“Guys like me?” 

He asked this, and those pretty cerulean eyes of his twinkled, as his full pouty pink lips spread into a curious smile. 

“Pretty guys who are way too overconfident, sleep with way too many girls, and expect everybody to fall at their feet. You're a dick, basically,” She told him, and then she smiled feeling satisfied with her assessment. “Your mom seems like a great woman, but don't expect me to immediately respect you because your mom has helped these women, because you have South African ancestry, because --”

“ --- I'm sorry,” he cut off her impassioned speech with a simple apology. “I came here because you're right about me and I want to grow, and be better. My mum actually forced me to come because I was being quite the dick.” 

Danai was taken off guard by his honesty, her face softening immediately at his admission. “I'm sorry too, I guess. It wasn't exactly easy to get here and it hasn't been easy for me to make it as it must be for you.”

Andrew furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you're a pretty white dude, it must be easy for you to do what you act and I bet you're rolling in the money,” She said.

She shrugged a bit, and began to walk off towards the wide, plain fields. He followed her, almost eagerly, and so she let him. 

_Andrew_

Andrew followed after Danai, hoping that this wasn't the end of their talk. He'd never opened up to someone so quickly before, explicitly knowing and trusting them so easily, not even Gael. They'd spent several months together in a campervan in the outskirts of the Australian outback, but he'd never really told her how he felt like a piece of shit or like he'd never truly make it where he wanted to make it, which was in America.

His light eyes travelled up her shapely legs, and he nearly gasped at her ample ass. But he had to focus, so he looked away quickly. 

“I'm broke,” Andrew suddenly admitted, and she stopped, turned around, and faced him. “I'm broke and right now I'm living with my mother yet I've done several acting jobs this year,” he admitted. “The last girl I dated, she was rich, and I envied that.”

Danai's face softened. “I'm broke too,” She admitted. 

“Why did you come here?” he questioned her suddenly. She seemed like the type of woman who always had her shit together, but clearly not.

“I came here to tell the stories of the young women living here, the ones whose voices remain unheard,” She admitted to him. “I spent years in undergraduate school _learning_ about the mental processes, you know, but I realized that we don't know there's and so I came here to write a play about it.”

“You're a playwright?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up and eyes glimmering with enthusiasm. “Have you written a lot? Performed it?”

She chuckled nervously at his enthusiasm, and that made him even more eager to find out about it. He noticed how passionate that she got when she spoke of these women, and he desperately wanted to understand it.

“You don't have to tell me,” he continued on when she didn't speak. 

“No, it's fine, it's just that I haven't been asked that before,” She admitted. “Well, I've written three plays and performed one at a theater in New York. We couldn't -- _they_ couldn't afford props so we performed on an empty stage,” She smiled fondly at the memory. “Anyways, I loved it, but this play, I plan to have it performed on Broadway one day.” 

“You'll have to invite me to that…,” he didn't know her name, so he simply trailed off. 

“Danai,” She told him. 

“Your name,” he said. “Its Shona. I'm not familiar with the language, but my mum knows a bit of it and --”

“It is Shona,” She responded, her face softening. “It means ‘love.”

After she told him this, the first truly face splitting smile crossed her face, and it's when he knew that he was completely fucked, and totally captivated by her. He'd hoped that he'd impressed her with his knowledge of her home language, and he decided to take that knowledge further. 

“You must be from Zimbabwe, then,” he continued.

It worked, he was graced with her lovely smile once more. “I'm Zimbabwean, but I was born in Iowa…”

“ _Iowa_!?” Andrew nearly snorted. 

“What is wrong with Iowa?” 

“Isn't that where Americans grow potatoes?”

“Yes, but we're more than our potatoes!” She challenged him.

He was enjoying this too much. He finally had something on the confident, poised, enigmatic, enchanting woman. 

“I'm sure you are. There's so many ways to use potatoes,” he smirked. “Chips, mash…”

“You will stop disgracing my home state!” She said, but found herself laughing through the words. 

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “But my last name is probably worse than any potato could dare to be.”

He felt her lean forward with interest, those large doe eyes only a few inches from his own; he struggled to breathe correctly, or think when she was so close. “My name is Andrew Clutterbuck.”

“ _Clutterbuck_?” She nearly screamed, but didn't.

“It's supposed to mean shit shoveler,” he shrugged, but the blush returned to his cheeks. 

“You're Andrew Shit Shoveler,” She said matter of factly. “I like it,” She grinned. “You shouldn't be ashamed of your name and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise.” 

“You'd defend my honor, Danai?”

She nodded. “Of course, Andrew. Only I can make fun of you.”

“Andy,” he corrected her. 

“Alright, _Andy_ ,” She repeats for emphasis, and he's mesmerized by the way that her full lips caress his name. “I have to go meet with a young girl and you're going to come with, alright?” 

“Okay,” he said. 

He'd probably follow her anywhere.   
  



End file.
